Angels and Humans
by DarkXLightxmagique
Summary: Two teens in the world of pre-Christine in the Paris Opera House. Did Erik know any other human...or angel... before Christine? No pairings.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

Little Christine skipped merrily with her expensive white scarf. She continued to skip with the wind blowing fiercely. 'Twas so fierce, it whipped the scarf, which was already on too tight for Christine's neck, around a tree branch. The scarf strangled her—nearly. With her only chance escape, Christine wriggled out of the scarf's grasp. However, she fell into a nearby ditch with a sharp rock in the middle. Christine desperately called for help. Raoul heard her cries (for he was strolling along the outskirts of the forest); thus ran to her direction and snatched her scarf and dove headfirst into the pit in a vain attempt to rescue her.

Fortunately, Raoul landed headfirst on the sharp rock that was in the middle of the ditch. Christine, being the vain, cynical brat is, grabbed the scarf from the young fop's dead hands, wrapped it even tighter than before, having a my-poop-don't-stink-attitude, she waited quietly with her hands folded, stared at the sharp rock.

Days later, people found bodies of two beloved children. How sad. Not really. The discovery of this was secret. Only the parents of the children knew; thus, the funerals and mourning were done in private, behind closed doors and with the curtains drawn…

Since no one knew of the "sad and tragic" deaths of the children, no one was sad. As the average people's lives continued uninterrupted, another strange and unseen event was taking place.

Several screams were heard along with loud crashes in Christelle Barret's house. Then, a very young, however, abnormally tall boy ran out of the house and into circus grounds. What was even stranger was that the young boy wore a white porcelain mask…

The circus master, Alexandre, noticed Erik, and asked him what the mask was for. The boy, being the socially deprived youngster he was, ignored the man's remark and simply walked away.

In response to this, Alexandre spat, "don't be rude, boy, answer me!" and ripped off the mask, saw it's purpose, and dragged the boy into a cage in one of the unused circus tents, giving him the name, 'The Living Corpse' and many others.

As another day goes on, a young girl, Rébecca, went to the circus for her first time. She witnessed many acrobats and abnormal talents, then, at closing performance, saw The Living Corpse without his mask and being beaten, spat at, and mocked for. However, Rébecca, not knowing the 'rules' of the common people's life, to fear and mock what is different or ugly, stayed after the show, unseen by all except for the curious boy.

A bit of time passed, and the girl stayed, unmoved, hiding in the shadows of the tent. In a heavenly voice, the boy moaned, "What are you doing? You better take one last look at me and leave."

Rébecca replied, "I mock you not, but to free you from wicked people."

The boy knew a little girl—nor could anyone— help him. 'Twas a kind gesture, but a little girl wouldn't know anything of rescuing. So, he gathered a few pieces of scrap metal in his cage, bended them together in strange fashions, and gave them to her as a necklace, a token of appreciation that someone thought about him, as that didn't happen often. As she put on the necklace, the unusual boy asked, "What's your name?"

"Rébecca, what's yours?"

"Some people call me 'The Living Corpse,' others prefer to call me simply 'Ugly' and others that reflect my hideousness. However, I call myself 'Erik.'"

"Oh, that's awful! It's not like you're a monster! You seem very kind!"

Erik paused, the quickly replied, "Rébecca, leave! I hear Alexandre, the circus master, he's coming!" Rébecca ran as fast as she could home—her stepmother's home—where she pretended to sleep, then, when positive her stepmother was asleep, took some old leftover bread that was on a table, grabbed the thickest blanket she could find, and snuck out a window and went to the circus tent Erik was in.

The innocent but brave girl crept into the tent, an attempt to be silent. However, she heard a familiar angelic voice, just above a whisper, "Who is there? Rébecca? You should be home where it is safe for you!"

"I'm just as safe here as I am at home. I've come to give you bread and a blanket."

Erik pondered this momentarily, not expecting his first time of hospitality.

"Thank you, Rébecca, this is an undeserved largess. Such a deed won't be forgotten. Where will you be tomorrow?"

"At home."

"Is it possible for us to talk again?"

"Yes, I can enter and leave my house as I please, so long as my stepmother doesn't find out."

"The same time as tonight?"

"I suppose,"

"Good,"

For a month, the little girl brought uneaten meals from her home to the infamous Living Corpse. One night, however, went differently. Rébecca tiptoed to Erik's tent and continued toward his cage. Despite her young, naïve age, she felt a strange presence that was wrong. She suddenly felt uneasy and nervous. Then, she heard a sad voice veiled with false happiness.

"What are you doing here?"

"What I've been doing for a while, Erik."

"Of course. But I must tell you something: this freak show is moving out of Paris and into India. I was thinking if right now, you could go to the meadow in Dead Man's Forest, and I will get out tonight and meet you there."

"When is the circus moving?"

"One and a half weeks. That's why I must escape tonight, so I may see you."

"I'll go now."

Rébecca quickly walked into the meadow in Dead Man's Forest, for she knew, exactly where it was; there was many a time in the summer she would sneak out if her house and sit in the meadow, watching the stars, listening to nature as it lived, as the rest of the world died in slumber; in spite of the name, it was a peaceful forest.

Rébecca arrived at the meadow and sat on the cold but welcoming ground. Minutes passed. Hours passed. Eventually, dawn came and Rébecca dashed home, needing to arrive home before her stepmother awoke.

"Why didn't Erik come?" Rébecca thought. "He said he would. Why wouldn't he?"

She crawled into bed and closed her eyes, tired and confused, only for her step mother to pop in and her croak, "Get up, make yourself useful, TODAY!"


	2. Chapter 1

Ten years later, sixteen year old Rébecca worked at the Paris Opera House as a maid. She cleaned all the prima donnas' and ballerinas' rooms and such similar chores for an average pay. She also lived there, for the House needed people that could be there to handle any dirty job at any time, and in spite of the treatment she received from the vain prima donnas, she liked it there.

Her room was rather small that was isolated from all other rooms or entrances. She shared her room with another maid, who became a good friend. Sharing a room and a job together let them get to know each other, resulting in their sibling-like companionship.

One day, Carlotta, a prima donna, was feeling even more scornful than usual; Carlotta kicked a bucket of water as some maids that were cleaning the stage. Rébecca and Sarah were splashed, as some other workers were, but all of them knew they could not protest, for they would lose their jobs for good and sink to the lowest point of making money.

Rébecca and Sarah simply exchanged glances, helped the other maids clean the stage, and left. Then, Rébecca noticed her necklace that she wore was gone! She realized that all the scrubbing of the stage and continuous motion of her body must have engendered it to fall off. She trotted back and retrieved the necklace without any trouble.

Then she heard a whisper.

She stopped momentarily, thinking it was the ballerinas upstairs speaking so loudly, that from where she was it sounded similar to a whisper; thus, shrugged it off and continued to walk back to her room; however, in matter of steps, the whisper was louder and more distinct. She subconsciously placed her fingertips to her necklace, a habit of hers, and looked worriedly about.

"I see that you have kept _my_ necklace, old friend."

Instantaneously, she saw two yellow cat eyes directly in front of her. Sarah called her name a long moment later, letting Rébecca cast her eyes to the floor and walk around the glowing orbs she felt watching her.


	3. Chapter 2

Later, Rebecca and Sarah slept. As usual, Rébecca had trouble sleeping, for she always heard faint singing.

"Bloody prima donnas," she thought. "They sing until dawn, and I've grown so used to them that I've learned to sleep through it."

Although Rébecca always admired their voices, even though it sounded as if only one person was singing, she could never make out the words that they sung. She found this most irritating, for if she could hear them, she should at least be able to decipher the lyrics.

The mysterious yet familiar song eventually stopped and in a normal but magical voice, "Goodnight,"

She gasped, but quickly calmed, for she remembered an incident when she clearly saw a fearsome man, alarmingly tall and formidably shadow-like, similar to a ghost. She also recalled when she saw the two yellow eyes glaring at her a short while ago. But she imagined them. Both of them. She knew she did. The voice that bade her goodnight was no different either.

The next morning, at five of the clock, Rébecca and Sarah continued an average day, when Rébecca cleaned the last of the ballerina's rooms; Sarah was tidying up the kitchen.

Then she heard a whisper. She listened more closely, and heard her name. Her eyes widened in fear; who was calling her name? What was the reason? Dare she find out?

"Rébecca, do not be afraid; it is I, Erik; I wouldn't hurt you."

She thought about this momentarily, hardly believing the voice. Then nervously replied, "Erik, where were you all this time?"

There was a pause, but he responded. "Ah, well, the last time we met, although I escaped, I was soon found by gypsies, another form of a freak show, and journeyed with them. In a short amount of time, we visited many places around the world. I, displayed because of my looks, also was a magician, but later accused not of being a mere magician, but of practicing witchcraft! I only recently returned to  
Paris…three years! Three years I've been here. Pure chance is the cause of visiting an Opera House where you are! I've built this Opera House three years ago, and have been here ever since then. How have you come about this place?"

"Well, a year after we met, my mother was forced into the institution for the mentally ill. I was an orphan, but avoided factories as best as I could, and stayed with a family, but I was not happy there; they were as terrible as my step-mother. I left there, and came to a wealthy family and insisted that I could work—I could be useful—in some way, and that I would be an improvement to the household. The only improvements that they required were cleanliness, so they let me be a maid there….only three months ago did I come here, to the Opera House, as the Master and Mistress died. I had to do a similar speech to the Opera House's managers that I could be a positive addition, and I suppose everyone always needs more domestic workers. Wait, how can you speak to me without being seen by…others?" Rébecca also wondered how she was also unable to see him. She was slightly uneasy that she could not perceive him…

"Well, friend, I am behind a wall. There are many passages in the Opera House…the basement…dead ends…mirrors…I…No! No! You cannot see me? I speak to you, you listen. I know you, but you do not see? No! I am behind a wall, speaking to you through it. You know now."

Rébecca mentally digested this, perplexed of what he meant when he was mumbling for dead ends and mirrors and when he switched emotions of mere explaining to becoming angry at something. When she was about to ask of what importance mirrors and dead ends had, he said, "I shall show you."

At that moment, the looking glass that was built into the wall turned, and Rébecca saw a hall. Through the shadows, she saw a darker shade.

Erik?

Hearing her heart hammer her chest, feeling the rush of adrenaline charge her entire body, she cautiously walked toward it.

The moment she was passed the mirror, it turned closed, confining her in the dark. She squinted to make out at least one feature of the shadowy figure at the end of the passageway. As she drew closer, the figure was perfectly still. Unexpectedly, the figure swept across the passage, In front of Rébecca, and quickly seized her hands. Rébecca cried out; conversely, not loud, for she was too surprised to give any true volume.

"Rébecca, don't be frightened; it is I, Erik, your friend. We are both in a hidden passage. It leads to other passages, and one of them leads to my lake."

"A lake? But Erik, how can there be a body of water in a building?"

"It is an _underground _lake. How? How could there not be an underground lake when under the ground, there is, in fact, a lake?"

She deciphered his strange use of sentence structure, and his even stranger idea—_an underground lake!—_she was still confused of how a lake could possibly be underground.

"Seeing is believing, as they say. Would you like to see the lake?"

Rébecca gathered her senses, felt strangely at ease; she could see his two yellow cat eyes that spoke to her a night ago. Erik was her friend. _Was_ her friend. If he hadn't changed, was there a reason to fear him?

"All right,"

They headed down the tunnels of darkness; the shadows swallowing them as they headed deeper into the shades.

"I'm very…flattered…that you kept the necklace I had given you, Rebecca."

"You had given it to my out of friendship; I kept it out of friendship, and contentment that we could keep it."

"Ah, but after so long, you consider me your friend?"

"Well, you did start talking to me again, which I interpreted as your wish to stay friends, correct?"

"Yes, I just never thought you would still remember—care."

"How could I forget you? You were wrongfully punished and shunned, yet still showed kindness to me. Not care? I? I continuously care for all of mine friends."

"Sarah and I?"

"Yes,"

They reached the lake. It wasn't completely dark; there were two torches on one wall by a boat that was tied to a large pole that was jabbed into the ground.

Still having a tight grip on her hands in his one hand, his free one reached for one of the torches. He placed it on a different spot on the opposite wall, chartering the spread of soft flickering light.

"This is the lake. An underground lake, to be more precise. It is rather curious, an underground lake. See, that is why there's a boat there, the boat crosses the lake and leads to my home….Ah! It is late! You must go back, a fine job awaits you. Let us go back for your sake."

As they returned, he never released Rébecca's hand. They quickly walked back to the mirror, the portal which transported Rébecca into the world of shades. The mirror turned open, and between the two reunited friends was a short pause until Erik declared a good night. "I wish you pleasant dreams and a well night's rest. I shall see you soon."

"Good night, Erik. It was wonderful to see you again. Good bye."

Rébecca walked out from the passage way, hearing the swoosh of the mirror closing. She walked back to her room and did not sleep easily: too many thoughts were keeping her awake, away from the sleep she longed for, she remained as this until the morning.

At the start of a new day, Rébecca lazily rolled out of bed, pushed Sarah off hers, and headed down the staircase to eat breakfast. When Rébecca and Sarah reached the kitchen, Sarah finally asked, "So, where were you, Rébecca?"

Rébecca's face felt hot. It always did when she lied. "Cleaning that bloody ballerina's room. 'Twas a mess! We should get paid for more than what we already get, for what I had to clean was worth a bit more than my weight in gold, I think."

"Gee, that's lovely. Sounds like a lot of enjoyment on your part, too. Just as me; the flour exploded everywhere last night. I was putting it in the cupboard and I dropped it. The result was flour chaos!"

"Naw, never mind, Sarah, you had it worse; flour is harder to clean than cheap makeup and picking up scattered laundry."

"I suppose. How about some bread?" She gestured toward the loaf on the counter. "'It's stale again, yippee." Sarah added, sarcastically.

They both laughed; everyday they had stale bread and icy water for breakfast and would have the leftover tasteful foods that were left from the workers of higher statuses.

"Yes," Rébecca joked, "It's always better that way!"

They took the bread and water and set the rations on their plates and in their glasses. Just before they could eat it, a sneaky little star, Carlotta, snuck into the room and pushed their fares off the counter. Sarah screamed in outrage and almost said what was on her mind. Rébecca didn't even react; getting mad at Carlotta made Carlotta get worse.

Rébecca sighed and told Carlotta to leave. Surprisingly, she obeyed her, scooting out. Rébecca offered the towel to Sarah and Sarah cleaned up the splattered water and the broken pieces of bread. As doing so, she barked, "Carlotta should hang for this! She should burn for all the undeserved pain she puts everyone through! She should hang! Hang! Hang! Hang!" She pounded her fist on the floor she cleaned thrice as she said 'hang' thrice.

"Well, I don't think she should die, but certainly stop that blasted merriment from playing with our tempers and heads! Why does she do it? I wish I knew; I wish she would stop!"

"Well, how about we discuss our complaints later in our room after we finish cleaning the ballerinas' rooms. We don't have to clean the kitchen for a few days; another maid has temporarily shifted to the kitchen duty during those days. Also, did you here that recently, the managers and some others don't want _anyone_ to touch their stuff anymore? True! So we only clean the performers' rooms and we're done!"

"Great, I'll see you later!"

Rébecca cleaned the prima donnas' room as Sarah cleaned the ballerinas'. When Rébecca was ready to walk out the door, she heard a familiar angelic voice, "You know, Rébecca, I altogether agree with Sarah, that Carlotta shall hang for her deeds."

"No one should die," Rébecca explained, slightly uneasy from Erik's statement. She didn't really mind what he said, but it made her nervous of what he made it sound like…he made it sound like a proposition. "No, she should just learn not to do things like that again."

"Sometimes death is the only lesson that can be learned by the ignorant."

"Well, if I was Carlotta, I wouldn't wish to die."

"You shouldn't! And you are not Carlotta, nor are you like her, of which I am grateful. You don't go strutting around stepping on others in your way—or not in your way."

"Yes, but I think death is a tad bit harsh. If she killed someone, then she shall be killed; however, other than that, death is a bit extreme for me."

Silence. Rébecca wondered if he had left.

Silence. Rébecca knew that he had left.

Rébecca left the silence of the prima donna's room and went to her own. Sarah was reading a book, sitting with her legs crossed on the floor. It was very unladylike to do, but Sarah straightened once she saw Rébecca enter.

"Oh, hey, I just started reading. I'll just put this away," She tucked the book onto a shelf and glanced back at Rébecca. "Can you believe that Carlotta? She was always haughty, but that was child like and ridiculous."

"Yes, it was terribly rude of her—well, a bit ruder than usual, I would say—what she did was beyond inappropriate at any age level."

Sarah nodded, "I suppose after practicing, she gets bored, and must take up her time by harming the little people."

"We may be little, but we're a heck of a lot prettier that she is!"

"Yeah, underneath the make up and wigs is a monster!" Sarah then growled and made a funny face.

"Sarah, if you're imitating Carlotta, you don't want her likeness to rub off on you." Rébecca giggled.

Sarah immediately went back to her norm. "Bah, you're right! Who actually wants to be like Carlotta besides Carlotta?"

They both laughed. Most people worshipped Carlotta, but at least they knew that they knew better. They didn't worship her, but they knew that they had to at least treat her with respect because of their jobs. They also didn't worship other celebrities, though many thought that strange. They were comfortable with themselves and knew they didn't need to be just like the actors and actresses in popular operas and plays in order to be something worthy of anything.

Sarah ceased her laughing, but it still lingered in her eyes. "Well, now it's time for our lunch, which means those stuck-up boobies are done with theirs. So let's go before the chef throws the food away and sneak away before anyone sees us and tells us to clean something!"

"Fine, I'm right behind you! Skipping work and eating are two of my favorite things!"

When Rébecca and Sarah arrived at the kitchen, they saw a clean kitchen. They were surprised, as they expected a mess.

"What happened here?" Sarah questioned, half-jokingly.

"Oh, it's clean! Usually the important folk don't care of what they leave behind."

The girls swiped some fruit and ate it as they ran to their room. They finished it when going up the staircase, and as they were about to reach the doorknob, Carlotta spoke a command. "Rébecca, Sarah, my room—it's messy—I can't find my necklace. Clean it, I'm trying to find it."

The girls walked to Carlotta's room after Carlotta disappeared from sight. In the room, Sarah asked Rébecca, "When did Carlotta become slightly more kind than usual? Do you think she cares, or is it a trick?"

"Well let's get it over with and hope the 'nice spell' doesn't ware off with time."

Instead of hanging clothes neatly in Carlotta's closet, they merely threw the garments into it. Then, underneath an outfit that she just threw, Rébecca saw something shining that caught her eye. "Hey, this is such a sparkly necklace; you think this is the item that Carlotta was babbling about?"

"Oh, maybe. Let's keep it and see how long she'll be nice until she starts demanding it back."

"No, this must have been expensive! If we gave it back to her later, she would accuse us of stealing it."

"That's a good point. Go prove it to her, I'll wait by the stairs incase she kills you for stealing it."

"Gee, thanks, you're a good friend; let me die form the murderous hands of a scornful prima donna."

"Oh, you're welcome,"

They both smiled as Rébecca went down the staircase to tell Carlotta of eh good news of her no-longer-missing-necklace. She eventually found Carlotta in a nearby hallway pacing frantically back and forth eyes darting madly in all directions. The darting eyes soon spied Rébecca. "Oh, what is tat you have there, in your hand…? My—"

"I found your necklace as I was cleaning your room; I found it under your mess of clothes; I didn't steal it; I found it."

"Oh, thanks, Rébecca. I appreciate that." Without another word of glance at Rébecca, she dashed up the stairs, not noticing Sarah or her surprised expression.

"She _thanked_ you? You're alive!" Sarah teased.

"Ha! Yes, I'm alive; she was actually easy to talk to, but she seemed…"

"Not like Carlotta?"

"Well, that, but something else…like she was being watched…or judged…or—"

"Oh, come now, Rébecca! Who is going to watch her? The Opera Ghost?"


	4. Chapter 3

Rébecca tilted her head. She heard bits and pieces of stories of the Opera Ghost, but never a full story, and never a full explanation of his motives.

From what Rébecca gathered, the Opera Ghost was neither dead nor alive. The Phantom, forever angered by his not living and his restlessness, would kill men in turn of his fate, taking their souls, but never able to live, but he kept doing it. He also knew that he was not dead, but wanted to be, so he would kill pretty maidens that he could keep as his ghostly wife when he did find peace.

Rébecca always found this a sad, sadistic, but untrue story. She never heard of anyone being killed. Sure, the first month she got here, there was a death, but the man hanged himself…and there was a missing woman...but she wasn't proven dead…

Rébecca felt sick. She also had a clue of who The Phantom was.

But she didn't want to think of that.

She didn't even want to here of it.

But Sarah began her tale anyway.

"See, the Opera Ghost was never born." She walked with her up the stairs. "He always existed in Paris, always dwelled in this area. He can go anywhere, but he chooses to stay here and kill pretty singers and musicians and strong young men so he can marry the ghosts of the girls and have the strength and body of the men. Only a few have seen him and lived. Some girl saw him and said his face looked like a white porcelain mask, but it was really his face! He was head to toe in black dress clothes, too, like a rich gentleman attending a funeral. His funeral. He doesn't speak, either. He just kills relentlessly and somehow does it without a mess. But trust me; he can make a mess when he wants to. People have claimed to see blood pouring down the walls like fountains, people screaming and laughing at the same time when no one was around, and of course, death."

Normally, Rébecca liked to hear of scary stories. She liked the thrill they gave her and when really good ones would actually scare her. This story, though…it wasn't…right…she knew that the story was directed to Erik, the mask, the clothes, that was what she had seen him in when he took her down to show her the lake.

Rébecca didn't like this, she especially didn't like how people came up with those stories of Erik killing and torturing and doing simply horrible and wrong things to others. She didn't like the idea or the origins of it, lies or not.

Rébecca didn't like it, not one bit.


	5. Chapter 4

"But you know what's scarier, don't you?" Sarah inquired.

Rébecca's stomach flipped. "Well, no, I can't say I do…"

"There's nothing to clean, no one is bothering us, and Carlotta is acting to what could be remotely identified as kindness. I'm getting scared!"

Rébecca chuckled and entered their room and talked a few hours of Carlotta's personality change, why it changed, and how long it would last. They enjoyed the conversation till dinner.

"Well, Rébecca, talking of strange occurrences has made me just as hungry as a day of cleaning does; let's go to the kitchen and catch some dinner."

"Sure, Sarah, but I took off my shoes, so I have to put them back on."

"All right, see you in a bit."

Rébecca put on her shoes and as she stood, she barely touched the doorknob to exit when she heard a majestic voice just above a whisper, "Aren't you glad that Carlotta is kind? Don't worry, this change will last!"

Rébecca turned from the door, facing the rest of the room, "Erik, what did you do?"

"You think that I have done something? You should not always listen to your friend, Sarah! I have done nothing. How do you mean?"

"To Carlotta!"

"You think I did something simply because a mere imprudent girl changed her ways?"

"Yes,"

"After years being separated, and only a mere night of reunification, you know me too well! Ah, yes, I talked to her."

"Talked to her?"

"Yes!"

"How!"

"Rébecca, if you heard a disembodied voice and didn't know that it was your good friend, Erik, would you obey the voice to what it told you?"

"Well, yes, but—"

"I have done nothing! I simply convinced her that her old way of living would…bring her no good."

"Well, all right. You must have given her a fright!" Rébecca said, trying to hint at if he had anything to do with the missing necklace of Carlotta's.

"Ha, ha, yes, I suppose I did. Now go sup with Sarah, she is waiting for you. Good bye, Rébecca."

"Um, good bye!"

Rébecca went to the kitchen to sup with Sarah, her mind buzzing as fast as her legs were going.


End file.
